


How Not To Propose To Your Girlfriend

by ScatteredWords



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Movie Spoilers, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 10:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScatteredWords/pseuds/ScatteredWords
Summary: In matters of engagement, it's probably best to do as Carmilla says, not as she did.





	How Not To Propose To Your Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> More oneshots to procrastinate on writing my multichapters! Aren't you so glad? Anyway, this is me taking a tiny snippet of a scene from the credits and expanding it into the fix I think the writers intended it to be.

_1\. Plan ahead._

It wasn’t that the actual proposal hadn’t been planned. The simple act of proposing to Laura Hollis had been high on Carmilla’s to-do list since the little nerd’s heart fluttered back to life under her hand, deep below the surface of a forgotten lawn at Silas University. In fact, very little had ever managed to push it down from its spot, barring the few times when “save Laura Hollis” had become top priority over their ten years of dating. And god knew there had been enough of those.

Four minutes and eight seconds before she proposed, to be exact. Now Laura stood there, grinning like the cat who had discovered the cream motherlode despite the nasty-looking cut on her upper arm. Weird blue light wavered on the walls of the cavern- and “cavern” was the word; the ceiling of the place stretched up into deep shadow higher than even vampiric eyes could see –hiding the ichor that coated both vampire and intrepid journalist from head to foot. Carmilla shifted her weight to one side slightly and felt her leather pants slowly unstick themselves from each other. She winced. Just because the gluey stuff was the same shade of blue and thus temporarily looked more like water, didn’t mean it would be easy to get off.

In her opinion, one ought never trust something that didn’t bleed red.

In her opinion, one ought never trust a dragon that appeared to be made of literal crystal, either. But that hadn’t stopped Laura.

Laura, who was now approaching the luminescent cascade of water before them as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Um. Honey?” Carmilla called, taking a few steps forward from the mouth of the cave. “Maybe don’t touch the strange, glowing water we know nothing about?”

Laura waved a hand back at her nonchalantly. “I won’t. I’m just getting a closer look.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes and trudged towards the waterfall, muttering under her breath all the while about ridiculous Lois Lane wannabes with no sense of self-preservation. She got about halfway across the vast chamber before a wizened hand clamped down on her shoulder. Its grip was surprisingly powerful; she turned, a snarl already rising in her throat- and stopped.

Quite possibly the oldest man she’d ever seen stood behind her. Well, the oldest physically- mere years walking this earth didn’t exactly impress a girl who’d dined with ageless Roman generals. But this man showed every single day of his age on his face, and she suspected they were more numerous than any other human’s. His face was a mass of wrinkles framed by wisps of snow-white hair; his limbs looked as brittle as winter branches, every bone showing through the loose skin.

And yet his eyes, shaded by the cowl of his simple blue robe, sparkled with the energy of someone much younger.

“Go no further, revenant,” he said in a voice surprisingly unlike the rasp Carmilla had expected. “These waters hold only your destruction.”

“What is this place?” she asked.

And instead of the oblique riddle her years of adventuring had taught her to expect, she actually got a straightforward answer. “The Fountain of Youth.”

 

_2\. Pick a time when they’re relaxed and at ease._

“Laura. You can’t.”

“Why not? We’ve talked about this. We made a pact.”

A loud hum echoed through the space. For not the first time in the past hour, Carmilla wondered if that wretched old man knew any songs besides The Star of County Down and Gangnam Style. Nothing wore on one’s nerve during a life-changing conversation happening several yards below the Swiss Alps like an off-key combination of Irish folk music and Korean pop.

“Because,” she said tightly, “you want children. What’s that going to look like if you can keep living like you’re thirty?”

“Don’t quote me at me,” Laura replied. “Once again, we made a pact. If we ever found a way for me to become immortal-”

“-you’d take it,” Carmilla finished. She sighed and bit her lip. “Yeah, I remember. But I’m just…wondering if you’ve really thought this through. I mean, you heard Methuselah over there. There’s no going back once this is done.”

Laura glanced at the gleaming waters for a long moment. Then, she took both Carmilla’s hands in her own.

“The world is such a different place from when we met. There are vampire rights advocacy groups and biomechanical airships and…and…werewolf bars. Our microwave runs on a combination of solar power and ultra-dark matter, which LaF still won’t explain. Who’s to say a family can’t be two immortal moms and children who-”

Carmilla cut her off. “Who we’ll have to watch age and die.”

“Who will have the choice,” Laura continued, “of whether they want a normal human lifespan or something longer.” She sighed. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. But you asked me to let you choose once, and I did. Now I’m asking you the same thing.”

“I choose you, Carm. I choose this. And if that makes me selfish, or callous, then…” she trailed off, shaking her head and squeezing Carmilla’s hands. When she looked up again, her eyes were glittering with tears.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose a single day we might have together. You can’t ask me to do that.”

Carmilla felt a prickling at the corners of her own eyes. Wordlessly, she leaned down and pressed her lips to Laura’s. The kiss was soft and tender, quite unlike the fiery passion that usually marked “thank whatever gods exist that we’re still alive” makeout sessions. When they broke apart, she cupped Laura’s cheek in her hand and rubbed the wet skin gently with her thumb.

“I choose you, too. So whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here,” she said firmly.

Laura nodded. Then, without letting go of Carmilla’s hand, she called over her shoulder, “Hey! Fountain-guardian-guy! How does this thing work?”

 

_3\. Create a romantic atmosphere._

“First of all, I’m required to tell you that this is a terrible idea and goes against the laws of nature,” he said in the bored tones of an Apple store employee explaining the front-facing camera to a grandma for the tenth time.

“Noted,” Laura said with a short, sharp nod. “I mean, noted and ignored, but, you know. Ten-four; I read you loud and clear!”

The guardian shot her a dubious look. Then, with a sigh, he pulled a cut crystal goblet from the folds of one voluminous sleeve and began to polish it against his chest.

“Well, traditionally the honor goes to whoever slayed a Fell Dragon of the Chasm, but in this case only one of you is eligible. As I said, life eternal is the bane of those who dance forever with death.” Here he looked pointedly at Carmilla, who shrugged.

“I’ve already snagged my ‘get out of mortality free’ card,” she said, jerking her head at Laura. “It’s Hollis who needs the help.”

“Yes, and you who will provide it.”

Carmilla blinked. “Pardon?”

“This fountain alone cannot confer immortality,” the old man explained. As he spoke, he shuffled towards the fountain. Laura followed eagerly; Carmilla with a bit more trepidation. Close to, the light seemed less like sun reflecting off a pool and more like the bioluminescence of an anglerfish’s lure. Uncomfortable memories of Lophiiformes stirred in her memory, and she fought the urge to pull Laura back, knock the old curmudgeon down, and get the hell out of there.

With a practiced movement, the guardian held the goblet under the stream of glowing water and pulled it out again precisely full. Not a single stray drop rolled down the surface of the crystal and Carmilla found herself grudgingly impressed. Laura reached for it eagerly, but he pulled back and raised a warning finger.

“If you were to drink this now, it would burn you from the inside out. Immortality can never be absolute, not for the time-bound creatures on this earth. It requires an anchor.”  
He turned to Carmilla and held out the goblet.

“It requires the blood of an immortal.”

Laura looked quickly from the old man to Carmilla, and back again. “Wait, what?”

“It’s like nobody finds this place through careful study in the Library of the Great Elders anymore,” he grumbled. “Kids today. I ask you.”

That seemed to be the end of the pronouncement. Laura and Carmilla glanced at each other, baffled. But then, the guardian spoke again.

“Your life must have a limit. It will last long and be difficult to end, but end it shall. The immortality this fountain offers is anchored to an existing immortal. As long as she lives, so shall you.” He shrugged. “Most seekers in days of old had sponsors, those who had already drunk from the fountain and who brought them here after years of training and consideration. Or else they were brought by their gods, as rewards for particular service. But none of those have passed through in centuries. You’re the first seeker-” 

“I mean, I wasn’t exactly a seeker,” Laura interrupted. “I was looking for the dragon. The weird cave Fountain of Youth thing is sort of a bonus.”

“The first finder, then,” the old man went on dryly, “to come here with an immortal purely by chance. How fortuitous for you.”

“So I bleed into this and Laura will live as long as I do?” Carmilla asked.

“Yes. And be subject to the same means of destruction, though human she will remain all her days.”

“So I guess if I ever get tired of this plane of existence, it’s stakes or nothing,” Laura muttered. She squared her shoulders and blew out a sigh through her nose. “Okay. Let’s get this done.”

Without hesitation, Carmilla raised her palm to her mouth and bit down.

_4\. Pop the question calmly, in a quiet and low-stress manner._

Laura always seemed to shine to Carmilla, but what had been figurative before was all too literal now.

The liquid light, as it entered her mouth from the goblet, continued to glow through her throat and down into her stomach. The more she drank- without pausing for breath, as she’d been instructed –the brighter it became until a blinding column stretched from her lips to her torso. And then, it began to spread. Spidery lines of light etched out the tree-like patterns of her arteries at first, then grew so numerous in the thousands of tiny veins along her body that they blended together into one mass of light. Carmilla squinted, but the brilliance increased until it was as if a tiny sun lit the cave.

The last thing she heard before a roaring filled her ears was a small, familiar voice. “Carmilla?”

“I’m here,” she said- or thought she said. All sound, even that of her own words, was drowned out by that rush of sound.

Which became a shockwave. Sheer force hit her so hard she was thrown back, against the wall of the cave. Something cracked and a pain lanced through her back before fading almost instantly.

“And that was a perfectly good spine,” she muttered. Then started as she realized the sound had been audible. She opened her eyes.

Laura stood before her, looking no different than she had yesterday or the day before that. Before her, because they were still standing next to each other. She raked a hand through her dark curls and found not a hair out of place. Her favorite black tank top was neither rumpled nor smudged with anything more than the dried dragon ichor that had pasted it to her skin something like half an hour before. Indeed, if she hadn’t just experienced it, she’d say nothing like the blinding light or sourceless bomb blast had ever happened in this placid, empty chasm.

Only the soft sound of falling water broke the silence. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that the old man had disappeared. But any thoughts of him were pushed aside as she stared at Laura. Who stared right back.

“Did it work? Do I look any different?” Laura began patting herself down, feeling her hair, her face, her ichor-stained purple parka. “I don’t feel any different.” She turned quickly, trying to examine her legs and feet. And that’s when Carmilla saw it.

Three tiny silver stars shimmered like some kind of metallic tattoo on the back of her neck, visible only when her messy braid whipped from side to side. The light they gave off was dim but definite, more of an iridescence than a strong glow like that of the Fountain itself.

“Laura,” she said. “There’s…oh, hold on. Turn your back to me.”

Laura obliged. Carmilla flipped her braid over her shoulder and snapped a picture of the marks with her phone. She reminded herself to send Perry a thank-you note for making the things impervious to nearly any substance. Including, apparently, dragon blood.

When she held out the phone to Laura, at first there was no response. Then a quiet gasp. Then-

“We did it!” Laura crowed, her gleeful shout echoing off the cave walls. “Yes! Haha! In your face, mortality!” After grabbing Carmilla and kissing her hard, she launched into a victory dance that looked halfway between the Macarena and the antics of deranged, sentient pogo stick.

And at that moment, Carmilla Karnstein decided to propose to Laura Hollis right then and there. 

_5\. This is a moment you’ll always remember, so make sure it’s perfect._

First, of course, there was the small matter of getting Laura Hollis to stand still for five seconds. Not an easy feat when the tiny journalist in question was hopped up on a combination of battle adrenaline, victory, and jetlag. 

Repeatedly calling her name seemed to do no good, so Carmilla settled in to wait. And wait. And wait. Just when she was starting to think the Fountain of Youth had been spiked with amphetamines, Laura bounced over to her.

“Carm? Everything okay?” A worried crease appeared between her eyebrows. “You seem weirdly calm. Are you having second thoughts?”

Carmilla pushed herself off the cave wall where she’d been leaning for the past half hour or so. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“This isn’t how I imagined this happening,” she continued. “I always thought perhaps in some Parisian café or on the balcony of that palazzo you love to rent when we go to Florence.” A cursory pat-down of the various pockets on her pants confirmed that nothing vaguely ring-like was currently on her person. Great. Bare-bones it would have to be.  
“But I should have known better, because that’s never been exactly how our life together has gone.” 

So, covered in rapidly drying dragon’s blood (that seemed to be getting sticker as it dried; how was that possible?), dusty from traversing a warren of tunnels inside a mountain all day, thirsty and travel-worn and ringless, Carmilla knelt on the floor of a cave that wasn’t supposed to exist and took Laura’s hand.

“Laura Eileen Hollis,” she began.

And got no further, because Laura immediately said, “Yes!” in a choked voice and pulled her to her feet for the mother of all kisses.

When they finally broke apart some time later, Carmilla chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to wait to be proposed to before accepting? Bad form, Creampuff.”

Laura blinked. “Wait you weren’t proposing? Oh damn. I’m so so sorry, Carm; it’s just that you went down on one knee and said my full name and that seemed kind of proposal-y and I-”

“Cupcake!” Carmilla said loudly, cutting off the stream of nervous babbling before it could really begin. “Yes, I was proposing. Do you want to make this thing official now that it’s a bit less star-crossed?”

“I said yes, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Carmilla’s eyes prickled dangerously. “And I’m the luckiest woman in this or any other universe.”

Laura pulled her closer and rested her head on her shoulder. “I think I am,” she said, voice slightly muffled by stained cloth.

“Are we about to have our first argument as fiancées?” Carmilla pulled away slightly to gaze at Laura in sardonic amusement. “And is it really going to be some rom-com crap about who loves who more?”

After a moment, Laura pressed a kiss to her cheek and broke away to rummage through the bag that lay forgotten at the mouth of the entrance tunnel. “Nope. We’re going to document our first find as fiancées. If I could just find that- aha!” An expression of triumph lit up her face as she pulled out a camera with a large dent in it that the astute observer might realize was shaped like a dragon claw.

“The Indestructo-Cam 5000 pulls through again!” At the press of a button, the tiny viewfinder screen lit up, displaying a LaFerry Industries logo before showing a crystal-clear video of the cavern and the glowing waterfall. That is, until Carmilla crept up behind her and turned it off again.

“Sweetheart,” she said, “first rule of being immortal: you don’t tell the rest of the world it’s possible. There’d be mass panic. People would come down here in droves, resources would be depleted as nobody ever died but they kept reproducing…it would be bad. Very bad.”

Laura sighed and stared at the ground. “I know. I just want to document- this. All of it; finding the fountain and becoming immortal and getting engaged. This is the biggest find of my career and the biggest moment of my life all in one.”

“Besides,” she went on with an expansive gesture towards the fountain itself, “don’t other people in our situation deserve to know there’s a chance? A lot more people are going to fall in love with immortals now that the world knows they exist. And it’s not like everyone on Earth can slay a dragon or get someone to come down here and bleed so they can live forever.”

Carmilla bit her thumbnail, then said, “We can tell them. Anyone like that who we encounter. Not everyone’s going to want it, Laura, I warn you. Some mortals would rather just have what nature gave them and some immortals can live with that. We can tell people we trust. But you can’t go public with this.”

“Then how do I explain what happened to me?”

“It was a fluke.” Carmilla shrugged. “A one-off, random happenstance. Something went boom far from here…say, in Australia…and you got lucky.”

Laura’s face fell, but she slowly began to pack up the camera. “I guess you’re right.” A hand grabbed the Velcro straps away from her; she glanced up, surprised, to see Carmilla smirking.

“Now, if you wanted to film something private for posterity…”

Later, there would be a ring, a beautiful sapphire Carmilla dug out of a secret compartment in a desk deep within the ruins of Schloss Karnstein. Later, there would be champagne toasts in their living room with friends who weren’t out saving the world or working on beta testing of their cheese-based teleportation devices. Later, Mattie would insist on taking Laura dress shopping at a Paris atelier so exclusive there was a password to enter.

But right then, in the moments after Carmilla Karnstein asked her girlfriend to marry her, as she pointed the camera at the tiny, newly immortal woman who had just taken a hasty “shower” with baby wipes and put on the emergency suit that had been spared an ichor soaking by its tarp wrapping, she thought her life couldn’t possibly be more perfect.


End file.
